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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202798">Small Comforts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/DrPearlGatsby'>DrPearlGatsby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armitage Hux Lives, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Bed-sharing, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, GingerRoseWeek2020, Post-Canon Fix-It, Temporary Amnesia, it's literally just fluff, not exactly plausible? but here we are?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:09:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/DrPearlGatsby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking nothing but tender thoughts for the woman who had opened her room and maybe her heart to him, he’d shuffled from the bed into the fresher, closed the door soundly behind him, and flicked on the lights. There was no hope in understanding what it was that did it, but when he saw himself in the mirror, Armitage Hux remembered everything he’d forgotten about being Armitage Hux.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Rose Tico</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GingerRoseWeek2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Small Comforts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A fic for Day Six of <a href="https://gingerrose-hub.tumblr.com/post/614909019904163840/gingerrose-week-2020">GingerRose Week</a>, for the prompt "After the War."</p><p>I feel like I've seen multiple people floating ideas for fics about Hux having amnesia, and in typical me fashion I've skipped all the character development those scenarios might offer and gone straight to the fluff.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose wakes to the sound of retching. She doesn’t recognize it at first, but there’s running water, then more heaving. Keeping her eyes shut, she pats the bed next to her—<em>empty</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling out of bed, she glances at the time—just after 0200 hours—and pads to the fresher door, already squinting against the tiny bit of light the closed door is letting into the room. She pauses, listening, but all she can make out is something like gasping.</p><p> </p><p>“Armitage?” she asks softly, knocking. “Are you alright?” She can’t quite make out the soft sounds on the other side of the door, but he doesn’t answer. She waits, propped up against the doorframe, then tries the knob—locked.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Armitage can barely look at himself in the mirror, studying his tear-streaked face in utter loathing. Because now he remembers. He remembers—<em>everything</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>Stupid, stupid, stupid. </em>Stupid to have hoped it would last. Stupid to have ignored what he intuited—that there was plenty Rose wasn’t telling him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>For months it was as if a huge gap had opened in his memory: he knew he looked older, but all he could remember was serving beside his father. All he could remember was the promise he’d made himself—that if the chance came before his next birthday, he’d get out. Waking up in a Resistance base to a ring of hostile faces and voices who called him “General” had been disorienting to say the least. He’d begged them—<em>please, I’ll do anything, just don’t send me back to him</em>—until he’d been reassured that his father was dead. He remembers making a list of all the worlds the Stormtrooper program was headed to, the ships that carried children who’d been abducted—remembers insisting that the Resistance rush in. <em>There’s still time to stop it before they get to all of them, time to return them home</em>. He’d picked up in the moment that there was something about his words the Resistance found shocking, but no one had cared to explain.</p><p> </p><p>And then—<em>Rose</em>. And then a brilliant mechanic-engineer-officer had risen to the challenge, had accepted the responsibility of his care. She’d taken to spending most of his days with him, working out problems and prompting him gently to tell her what he remembered, what he knew. He’d found her unquestionably wonderful, telling her softly one day. <em>Why are you looking at me like that? </em>she’d frowned at him across the worktable. <em>You’re beautiful</em>, he’d said, feeling the tips of his ears redden, the gradual acceleration of blood to his face. She’d laughed it off. <em>Believe me, if you remembered more about—</em>she’d frowned.</p><p> </p><p>She was always careful not to mention what life had been like before he awoke, but most days he was grateful for it; too many questions made his head hurt with a deep, throbbing pain. Still, the less she said, the more he worried what he might have done to jeopardize his relationship to her. She was the only woman—the only <em>person</em> on the whole base interested in being around him, much less taking care of him.</p><p> </p><p><em>What? </em>he’d asked.</p><p> </p><p><em>You didn’t find me beautiful before</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That’s something I said to you?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Rose glanced up at him with a wry expression. <em>You might as well have</em>.</p><p> </p><p>In an uncharacteristic show of bravery, Hux had looked her directly in the eyes with all the want building inside of him. <em>Then certainly I was lying.</em></p><p> </p><p>They’d grown closer. More smiles between them. She became even gentler and he just <em>slightly </em>bolder, offering to bring her tea and in any room always choosing the seat beside her. The day there was a huge celebration for the end of the war—which war, he wasn’t certain—the base had been filled all day with music and loud revelry. He’d suffered the worst headache yet, feeling inexplicably jumpy and anxious; but she’d spent at least half of the day with him in her lab, not participating with her colleagues or even speaking—just quietly tinkering with various things that didn’t strictly need it and turning on a fan that helped to drown out some of the clamor. Her care for him moved him to speak up again; standing in the doorway of his quarters that evening, he’d taken one of her hands in his, confessing, <em>I’d spend every day like this if I could</em>. She’d squeezed his hand back, some kind of emotion in her eyes as she wished him good night.</p><p> </p><p>When earlier this evening they’d found his tiny quarters trashed, she’d been at his side to take in the damage—and had taken an armful of his things to her own quarters at once, instructing him to grab whatever he could salvage. He didn’t own much—clothing, tech he used for work—but the whole act of sabotage bewildered him and made his head hurt more. He heard Rose in the hallway, in a shouting match with someone, as he folded the two pairs of clothing that could be sewn back together. Later, she’d insisted he join her in the huge bed—<em>there’s plenty of room.</em> And indeed, he would have had to stretch his arm to its full length to touch her; he’d spent the better part of an hour imagining, wondering if he dared.</p><p> </p><p>Then he’d awoken to use the fresher. Thinking nothing but tender thoughts for the woman who had opened her room and maybe her heart to him, he’d shuffled from the bed into the fresher, closed the door soundly behind him, and flicked on the lights. There was no hope in understanding what it was that did it, but when he saw himself in the mirror, Armitage Hux remembered everything he’d forgotten about being Armitage Hux.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Rose is knocking again. “Are you sick?” she asks, worry and sleep in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage reaches for the handle, hesitating. What he wouldn’t give to open the door and pretend everything is fine. But he’ll never forgive himself if he chooses now to deceive her. He turns the knob, disengaging the lock and letting her in.</p><p> </p><p>Rose squints at the bright light within and wrinkles her nose. The bathroom smells like bile, and for a moment she thinks the food was bad—but as her eyes adjust to the light she takes in Hux’s tear-streaked face, his heaving shoulders, his trembling hands. Still he towers over her, taller by at least a foot, but there’s something about him that seems cautious, as if he wishes he could make himself smaller. The tears on his face have settled into its creases, making him look much older than the boyish persona whose memories he’s been trapped in for several weeks.</p><p> </p><p>She’d liked that version of Hux—the young man with a plan to run away and a surprising reserve of hope—but as time had gone on, she’d been filled with guilt. More than anything Rose liked spending time with him—he was smart and amusing, handsome and serious—but she had to wonder if present-Hux was lost to them forever. It pained her to try to imagine how it would go if she had to tell him about his past. Even worse, a part of her feared that if he never regained his memories, she could never fully be herself with him.</p><p> </p><p>She was in part mortified to recognize the depth of her feelings for the former general, but at the same time she didn’t know how she’d ever come to forgive him if he couldn’t remember with a clear mind—if he couldn’t look back into his own memories to see what he’d done and apologize as a truly changed man.</p><p> </p><p>Looking at him now, she realizes she’d been hearing him sobbing. In just a few seconds he drops their eye contact, looking instead to where he’s wringing his hands in front of him, trying to stop the trembling. “What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Rose, I…” his voice is watery and weak, but he doesn’t try to cover it up. “I remember. I remember… everything.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hand comes into his view then, reaching out to grip his arm softly. “Come on,” she tugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Rose, I’m—I’m so sorry, and I didn’t… I don’t even know how to…” He cries harder in earnest, resisting her tug.</p><p> </p><p>“Ssssh,” Rose whispers, running her hand up and down his arm. He’s in long sleeves but it’s still the most contact he’s had in a <em>very</em> long time. “Come on, Armie. Let’s get back to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“But—” Hux tries to step back out of her reach, his expression clearly pained and his voice going hard. “No, Lieutenant General, I <em>remember</em>. Snoke and Ren and the Emperor, Starkiller and Pryde’s shot knocking me out—I know who I am now. I know what I’ve done.”</p><p> </p><p>The small woman in front of him just tightens her grip on his arm, tugging him toward her.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Rose whispers, as if he’s a fathier she doesn’t want to spook. “Let’s just get back to bed, alright? We can talk about it in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage has no idea how to respond to that, he’s in such disbelief. There’s a tenderness in her eyes that he’d only recently begun seeing—a look he hadn’t expected to ever see again, especially not now. He’d emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet when he’d envisioned her anger, her fear, her rejection; but now she looks at him with the same gentleness that he’d seen just a few hours ago. His eyes fill up with tears again.</p><p> </p><p>Rose tugs, and Armitage shuffles forward into her touch. He hangs his head, staring into her eyes with a shred of hope he doesn’t think he deserves; her free hand goes into his hair, combing gently through the mussed ginger strands. Rose smiles a small, tentative smile, and Hux lets himself be led back to the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Go on,” Rose says gently, releasing his arm when he’s reached the side he was sleeping on, but he just freezes, his shins bumping ineffectually against the mattress. In moments she’s climbing under the covers on her side, yawning loudly and patting at the open space beside her with one hand.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, stiffly, he settles onto the bed, situating himself at the extreme edge in spite of the fact that the bed is plenty large. He wants to bolt but talks himself out of it: though it feels like a lifetime, it’s only been some hours since his quarters were trashed. It’s probably not safe to go back. All his belongings are here. And since Lieutenant General Tico is probably too tired right now to take him to where he belongs—to a holding cell—it’s best to try to sleep. Hers may be the last bed he ever sleeps in.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage settles onto his back, careful to keep his breathing even.</p><p> </p><p>Rose is more awake now and resting onto her side, watching him. Gradually her eyes adjust to the dark and she’s able to make out the shape of his face just over an arm’s-length away. She’s never seen him look so vulnerable—his tear-streaked face contorted in the harsh light of the fresher—but she’s glad for it. It’s obvious he remembers not only his entire past but the last few weeks with the Resistance—and maybe that will be enough. Maybe that will be the thing it takes for him to become the person he’s meant to be.</p><p> </p><p>A hitch in his breath catches her attention, and Rose squints at him in the dark. She hears another little intake of breath and understands: he’s still crying. Against her better judgement she reaches for him, gently grazing his forearm with her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>He jumps a little when she touches him, but he turns on his side toward her.</p><p> </p><p>“Come here,” she says gently.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Rose indicates the gulf of space between them. “Closer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Rose brushes her fingers at the loose strands of his hair where they flop onto his forehead, finally answering his question with a question. “Why are you crying?”</p><p> </p><p>“Rose, I’m—” He stops himself, steadying his voice. “I told you, Lieutenant General Tico. I’m not that naïve boy you’ve spent the last few weeks with. I’m a former general of the First Order, the engineer of Starkiller.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose moves her other arm so it’s also reaching for him, indicating she’s ready to embrace him.</p><p> </p><p>“I was never that boy,” he protests, his voice getting a little louder.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have the chance,” Rose counters, scooting closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Hux’s voice hardens. “I did. I had a choice, and I made it. I was your <em>enemy</em>. Rose, don’t—<em>why</em> are you reaching for me?”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice is soft and a little wavery. “Because you’re crying.”</p><p> </p><p>Hux exhales in one shaky breath, discerning in the dark how her face has fallen.</p><p>                                                                                                    </p><p>“Because I <em>know</em> you’re not that boy, but now I know—I know he was a part of you. Who you might have been. Armitage, I’m <em>glad</em> you remember. I wasn’t going to be satisfied with half. I needed you to remember.”</p><p> </p><p>The silence hangs between them for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Finally Hux asks, his voice barely a whisper, “What comes next?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” Rose whispers back.</p><p> </p><p>“A trial?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” her voice is hard and sudden, “you’ve already proven yourself to us over and over—there won’t be a need for that. In a way, I guess… it’s up to you.” She moves her hand to wipe at her tears, sniffling slightly. “You’ll meet with Poe, I’m sure; he’ll probably shuffle your assignments. If you want to move to new quarters right away, I’ll set it up in the morning. If—”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean ‘if?’ What’s the other option or condition?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean ‘if…’” Rose curls her arms back into herself, reaching to pull the blanket securely around her shoulders. “If you didn’t want to… you know, for a little while, stay here. Until you’ve got things figured out again.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d—” He can’t seem to finish the question. “After—?”</p><p> </p><p>Rose wipes more tears from her eyes, her voice sounding more stable. “I’ve had a lot of time to get used to this—this <em>human</em> side of you. And even though you forgot who you were—the rest of us didn’t.” She sighs. “I know this is a lot, Armie. But I’ll do whatever I can. Help with whatever you need.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Armie?’” he repeats, a touch of humor in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” she says quickly. “It’s—it’s just a name I had in my head.”</p><p> </p><p>For a long moment, he just looks at her. Then they move without speaking, Rose opening her arms again and Armitage curling toward her. Rose guides his head to fit under her chin, which has the unexpected consequence of planting his face against her bosom. He doesn’t protest, pressing a gentle kiss to her nightshirt as he wraps his arms around her. Rose cards the fingers of one hand through his hair and he sighs contentedly, breathing in the sweet smell of her skin.</p><p> </p><p>Hux is awake for hours after, trying to make sense of the memories that tumble and tangle through his mind. But Rose is there with him, wrapped around him, the sound of her breathing soothing him like the purring of his cat used to. Afraid though he is of what the morning will bring, his only option right now is to trust her; and as that thought settles into his mind, he finally drifts back to sleep.</p>
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